


sink into (sun and water)

by honey_beeing



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Human Louis, M/M, Mermaid Harry, Mermaids, Surprises, mermaid au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:46:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23598586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_beeing/pseuds/honey_beeing
Summary: "Don't scream," Harry belts out, swiftly.At that, Louis snaps his mouth shut, but eyes are still round, terrified and they don't stop scanning him back and forth, lingering on Harry's tail. His stance is guarded, legs apart and hands clenched into fists by his sides. "What the fuck?!" His voice has proceeded into a shrill tone.Harry winces."You-you're a fish- no. You're a mermaid, Harry! Oh god, I'm dreaming!""Louis!""This is the weirdest dream ever-"(or) AU. After six months of being boyfriends, Louis finds out Harry is secretly a mermaid?
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 91





	sink into (sun and water)

"Tell me where we're going!" Harry grouses. 

"Shut up, Harry."

They're in Louis's car- heading on a sleek straight road from the way they were going. His hands are clasped in his lap punctiliously and there's a smooth blindfold tied around his eyes. Something that Louis introduced about a few minutes back (though it seems a forever ago) and insisted on him wearing. 

However, it wasn't as kinky as Harry wanted it to sound. Probably it would be a better setting if it were to be happening in either of their bedrooms; mostly Louis's since his mattress was firmer and his bedframe was higher.

With a Bank holiday on Monday, the heavens had granted them a long weekend. Harry had involuntarily decided to sleep in, tucking into a few nice meals, maybe smoke up half his stash would be a good plan to unwind for all of it. Louis loved staying in too, and they often did the same during weekends- self-care and Netflix binge. But this time, Louis had gotten ahead of the game when he showed up at Harry's place at seven in the morning, prim and proper, face smiling before his mouth did. 

"We're going somewhere," he'd said. "It's a surprise!"

"I thought you were going to come here at noon and we could catch up on _Trinkets_ ," he complained groggily. His sleep had been disturbed, and he had done overtime the day before. Great.

Louis insisted though. "You'll like it," he'd said. "We never get out. We can't be old just yet. Those years are way ahead of us!"

So, they started a little before eight, after Louis had pushed him into the shower, helped him pack a duffle bag, made him a breakfast smoothie while Harry primped. He also made sure they put their phones on airplane mode for the weekend; Louis had said it would ensure that they didn't waste time on the internet and obligatorily talking to people, though Harry had different views. He had to give it to Louis- the planning, the effort. There was a car waiting outside, with secret equipment, a load of snacks, an emergency kit, a first aid kit- what a responsible boyfriend he had. It was hot. 

Traffic in the city took long after they waved Swindon goodbye half an hour later, and set out on a highway. Louis wouldn't let him exploit Google Maps or linger on the road signs for much longer. Only encouraged him to sing along with the radio as he drove. He pulled the windows so Harry could feel the wind and leave his stress at home to find two days later. Yet, the anticipation was eating at him. It only became worse when Louis stopped to the side and put the blindfold on him. "Surprise! Surprise!" He promised.

If Harry asked him one more time, Louis would probably burn him with the power outlet with one hand on the steering wheel. Or not. Louis was spontaneous like that. So, he keeps quiet. He can't quite tell how the car was going if it was swerving or just going along. They were driving for at least two hours or more than that. A little more patience, the voice in his head berates. 

"We've just crossed the sign and we're in," Louis says happily. "Fifteen more minutes, babe."

They were in, or so it seemed. Harry wouldn't know. He's been bloody blindfolded for so long, he can't-

Something itches his nose. 

It's not an itch he can scratch out. It tingles and tingles, and he can't quite place it. Then, the sudden waft of a smell sends the signal to his brain. _Salt._ There's salt in the air. He can smell salt in the air.

Oh fuck. He's so fucking royally fucked. 

"Louis," he says, unable to keep the panic out of his voice. "Louis, are we going to the beach?"

After a few seconds, Louis says, "No," in a slow affronted tone. Lies.

"We're going to the beach!"

Unfortunately, Louis takes that as excitement. "How did you know? I tried so hard to keep it a secret!" With one hand, he pulls down the blindfold with his eyes on the road. "It's going to be wonderful, Hazza! Two days in the sun near the water. I found this very cute cottage with a beach instead of a garden that's almost a kilometre wide with the house in the middle! Very quaint, you'll love it."

Outside, a long road lined with trees gives way to a typical seaside town. The sun isn't afraid to shine and the skies are too blue for it to be real. The streets are mostly clean of people, the roads with sharps bends, one which curves beside a large building that says _Westward Ho! Baptist Church_. They're at a beach. A bloody beach, for his luck.

"Westward Ho! ...?"

"Yeah, funny name, innit? It's one of the reasons I chose the place. They have private beaches too." He turns to the side to wiggle his eyebrows at Harry. "If you can catch my drift."

Harry is too caught up in his mind to catch any drift. He can't help but think this is going to be the first and last vacation he would be going on with Louis. If Louis decided to discontinue them, that is. God, how different would life be? Half of his belongings hung at Louis's flat like they were always there. He would have no one to bitch to at the end of the week, no one who likes blackhead scrubs as much as him, no one to finish the many TV shows they started together. No one to cuddle with when the heater is broken again, no one to have phenomenal sex with.

"Harry?" He's broken away from his cyclone of thoughts by Louis. His hand shifts from the gearstick to his knee. "You alright, love?"

"Yeah," he chuckles drily, trying not to grimace. "I'm scared of water, Lou. You should have said something." Because it's the complete opposite of being afraid of water, but he can't say it.

Louis's concerned eyes are on him. "You should've mentioned it! You were fine in swimming pools, so I didn't give it a thought!" He purses his lips. "We'll just have to conquer your fears, then. I'll be right there, darling. I won't let you sleepwalk into the sea."

"I dunno, Lou..."

Being the angel Louis is, he squeezes his knee reassuringly. "You'll be fine. I'll guarantee it."

That's that.

In some time, they roll up to a small house with broken shingles. Its walls are a dirtied cream, the door has a traditional door knocker. As Louis is killing the engine, Harry jumps out and stretches with his arms over his head. Gravel crunches under his shoes as he steps closer to the house. Louis who's at his heels produces a set of keys from his pocket and swiftly opens the door- with a rusty jerk. 

The inside smells like it's not been lived in for a while- sort of like mould. There's a dining table as soon as they enter with the kitchen to the left. Past the corridor of the kitchen are two rooms that look either to be two bedrooms or one bed and bath. The sofa looks like it's been through a lot; it has springs jutted out through the cushions, absorbed the colour of dust. The tea table has age-old stains. But, mostly what takes the cake is the large screen doors that display a patio leading on to an isolated beach. Waves can be seen fighting against the land from where they were standing. It's perfect. 

"So, what do you think?" Louis comes up behind him, worming his arms around his stomach and trying to hook his chin over Harry's shoulder. 

Even though Harry knows he's in trouble, he clutches at Louis's hands around him and smiles, because this is anything anyone could hope for. "I love it. So much. Love you." He looks over his shoulder and gives his boyfriend a short kiss, stepping out of their embrace right after. "I gotta go wee."

Louis shakes his head at him, lips pursing. "You're lucky I love you too, since you're good at ruining moments. You'd be lost without me teaching you my ways," he says with a faux sigh. "I'll go get the bags. Are you hungry? I'll get some of the crisps. Or, there are some groceries, could bring 'em in."

"Get everything," he says with a tight smile, already moving through the kitchen. He goes into the nearest bedroom, navigating the loo quickly and slips inside. He makes sure to bolt the door before pushing his trousers down. As expected, he could see the shimmery scales gracing the sides of his calves, tapering up past his knees and infiltrating the areas of his thighs. It's begun, and it's fast. Oh, what the mere smell of sea salt could do.

The sight of his legs makes him quake. Clearly, there was no going back, and he'll have to live with it for the next few days. He considers telling Louis the minute he steps out of the bathroom, but he knows he'll sound like a lunatic. Perhaps the demonstrative version would be the best way to go. There's no telling when he'll spout a full tail until it stops looking like a weird silvery rash. All he has to do now is wait.

Since it's the weekend, they eat a load of crisps for lunch, with countless cups of tea with the kettle provided in the kitchen and they find a tattered box of Monopoly in one of the cupboards to waste time while digesting. Neither of them has bothered to find out the actual rules of the game, and they pretend for a half hour before Harry steals the entire bank and Louis upends the board. Then, without preamble, Louis rolls his trousers halfway up his leg and shoots himself out into the patio and Harry has no aim but to follow.

He watches Louis run straight into the sea as he belongs there, ironically. The sight of it makes him halt in his steps. Louis's head is swallowed into his shirt before the said clothing is pulled off his shoulders and falls to waste on the sand. He flips around to beckon Harry alongside him. 

Harry can't do it; with Louis or with the scales on his legs. But, dear god, he loves Louis. They don't say it to each other much, but when they do, it's sounds so sacred and new. It's a realisation all over again.

But, Louis is already moving into the water, the late afternoon sun looking bleak before him. It catches in the tips of his hair and casts a shadow in his face that doesn't darken enough. A laugh coming from him pauses the clock. His skin glistens like it doesn't do anything other than to entice. If Harry were to run up to him and touch him, maybe the gold will smear on to him. Maybe he can save it. 

"Harold!"

And Harry doesn't need more than that. He trips forward, feeling the soft sand flow between his toes- it's much smoother than he remembers it. There's a seaweed that catches around his ankle like a warning sign but he goes on. He runs like it's forever until he can feel wetness under his feet, over them, and on his legs. He's in the water; he's in the sea. After a long, long time.

Some part -a part he represses because he hates it so much- the very part he hides away, sighs in relief. He can feel gooseflesh erupting everywhere and his pores loosening just from the mere feeling of water. He curls his toes in and stares at the horizon, hoping the day won't end. 

"You okay, love?"

Harry smiles wanly. "Perfect."

Then, Louis wraps his arms around him and rocks them in place. Perfect, it is.

The next few hours are spent observing Louis flap about in the water, screaming for no one else to hear and getting knocked down by the meagre waves, while Harry takes a seat in the shallow water until it's come up to his stomach. He feels so full of it. There are washed up rocks and shells around him, little trinkets that he drops into his trouser pockets when he finds something shiny. Thankfully, Louis doesn't push him to farther in, and he's grateful. Mostly because after an hour or so, Louis joins his side, sitting up with his legs spread out, disappearing over and over into the ebbing waves. 

It's about five in the evening when Harry can't help the string of yawns that fall out of his mouth and they decide to take a short nap before dinner. Both of them are tired from travel and from having fun, and Harry from worrying- it's logical. The plan was to kip for an hour or two and leave for dinner at a local restaurant that served excellent squid. It was warm compared to how wet Swindon usually is, so they crank up the air-con and get under the sheets. Since they don't harbour much energy, they don't do much; just put their quick hands and quicker mouths on each other without so much as to get their clothes off, ride the high and fall fast asleep.

They must have been worn out since Harry blinks awake at nine PM, and it's dark outside. He knows it's too late to go out for a quiet supper. At least, Louis wouldn't want to. He wasn't a fan of loud music and getting sloshed anymore, Harry is told. Besides, he looked so young in his sleep, a hairpin away from crankiness if woken up. And Harry didn't want to risk it.

He pulls on a jumper over his t-shirt and goes back into the lounge where the curtainless screen doors show a nearly cinematic view. The sky is dark with the moon shedding light on the grey sand. The waves weren't angry as they were before, but they still managed to make enough sound. Harry knows he should resist himself; put his feet down before he jumps into the sea and comes out with nothing to stand on. He's already having a hard time walking because of something that was pushing his legs together. If it just weren't so idyllic by the look of it. 

Instead, he pushes himself to go back into the room and enters the loo. He doesn't bother locking it this time. He's made his mind about what to do and it leads to the end of Louis finding out. So be it. It's what he has to do to not upset Louis about taking him to a beach, and also sweep a side of his under the rug just so Louis won't see it. 

When his trousers come off, he notices that the scales have coated the entirety of his legs- from his hips to his ankles. A stretchy thin film of it protrudes out and wraps around his pelvis and the top of his thighs. In due time it would extend down and he might not see his feet anymore. No going back, then.

He leaves all his clothes right by the washbasin and climbs into the tub at the end of the bathroom. It's difficult to slide his legs down and sprawl them along the length of it. Leaning his head against the tap into comfortable, and it isn't better that the drain is right under his arse. He twists the tap and lets it fill up to his chest. The water is nothing but relief to his legs, to his skin. 

Under the soothing motion of the water, Harry falls asleep in minutes.

🧜🧜🧜

"Harry! Harry, are you alright?"

The faded voice becomes clear when Harry lurches from his slumber. Water splashes around him, and it takes a few seconds for him to realise he's fallen asleep in the bathroom. It felt like he'd slept for hours, but he can't know. He peers down at his legs, and not-so-surprisingly, they aren't there anymore. A familiar silvery tail greets him, ending with a flick from his caudal fins. 

"Harry!" Right. Louis was outside the door, knocking insistently. 

"Yeah," he calls back, dubious.

Louis sighs audibly, a thunk sounding like he'd fallen against the door. "Thank god. I was going to barge in. You alright, love? You've been gone a while."

"Time's it?"

"Just a bit after one," answers Louis. "Harry, you haven't told me if you're alright."

Harry looks down at himself, watching his tail wiggle happily in the water. He makes a purposeful splash, snorting at himself. "No, Lou. I don't think so."

A moment of silence passes, long enough for one to think he's slept against the door. "Can I come in, love? You don't sound good."

"No!"

Louis makes a hum in disagreement. "Okay, do you want me to stay here? Is it your stomach?"

Harry shakes his head, immediately remembering that he can't be heard. "My stomach is fine. I'm... fine. It's just that..."

"Harry?"

He draws in a deep breath, fingers curling around the edges of the tub. He can feel his heart dropping his chest, but strange it doesn't crash against his ribs like it usually does. Perhaps since he's been expecting this, and he knows there's no way out but to go on. For someone who had been laying in water for almost four hours, his mouth was quite dry. The hair at the back of his neck stood persistently. His tail involuntarily jitters in the water. "If you," he starts gravely. He has to stop, take a deep breath in even if it's useless. "If you come in, you have to promise you won't scream. Or leave. I need you to- Louis, are you listening?"

A pause that seems too long comes on. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it isn't that horrible, love."

"Louis, please promise."

This time, there's no hesitance. "I promise. Can I enter?"

When Harry gives him affirmation, the knob twists and the door cracks open, just a bit for Louis's head to jut through the door. It's obvious from the placement of the door and the bathtub, that the first and only thing he can see is Harry's head. "Harry, are you sitting in the tub? Is something wrong?" Then the door opens wider. "You had me scared for a-"

Louis stops talking at once, lips pulled outward with his mouth open as he takes in the rest of Harry. There's a split second when all his muscles seize up, one by one. His eyes are alarmed from the way the whites of them grow, panicked, and fear grows in them like a shadow, accentuated with the help of his eyebrows that have raised in their place and straightened out. His chest is heaving and he sucks in so much air at once, Harry can feel the deficiency of it. His mouth opens wider.

"Don't scream," Harry belts out, swiftly.

At that, Louis snaps his mouth shut, but eyes are still round, terrified and they don't stop scanning him back and forth, lingering on Harry's tail. His stance is guarded, legs apart and hands clenched into fists by his sides. "What the fuck?!" His voice has proceeded into a shrill tone.

Harry winces. "You're not."

"You-you're a fish- no. You're a mermaid, Harry! Oh god, I'm dreaming!"

"Louis!"

"This is the weirdest dream ever-"

Harry shakes his head frantically. In normal circumstances, it would take just rubbing Louis's back to get him out his funk, but he couldn't very well stand and walk over to do just that. "Louis, stop. Come here."

At that, Louis stumbles back from the doorframe, colour draining from his face. "I don't think so."

It's funny to think that Harry had imagined Louis would take it better- that he would be surprised and laugh it off eventually. Maybe it was too soon in their relationship for these kinds of secrets- but he didn't have much of an option. He didn't ask to be thrust at the sea until another four months, somewhere in Brighton, somewhere other than where he was. The fact sealed itself when he was sat there watching his boyfriend be on the brink of making a run for it. 

"Louis, please. Hear me out. I know I should have told you earlier, but I couldn't risk it!" He's just a little short of pleading. He's always been known to be assertive in situations like this, taking control immediately. But, this was Louis. Louis who he was weak in the knees for. Louis who he had him wrapped around a finger. He was probably going about it the wrong way, but he's here and might as well continue. "I'm not going to hurt you. I promise."

Then, Louis sighs, closing his eyes briefly. He grabs the soap dispenser off the sink, wielding it like a weapon, and steps a little closer. Just that action is enough to make a twinge of pain go through Harry's chest. "I can't wrap me head around this. Are you even Harry?"

"I am!"

Louis doesn't ask him to prove it. But, he tentatively steps a little closer, almost like he wants to believe it but can't because his eyes betray what's supposed to be normal. "Explain," he demands. 

Harry takes in a deep breath. Perhaps they won't get any sleep tonight- although he's wide awake. His heart is certainly beating away as if he might die soon. So hard that his chest hurts from it. It feels as though horses are trotting against his ribs, and he has to speak louder than it to be heard. "My father is a mermaid- err. Merman."

"Your dad? The one you see once a year?" Louis asks incredulously. Thankfully, he's dropped his hand down, dispenser hanging from his fingers. Even if Harry feels as though the trust is broken, he won't be bludgeoned into having a concussion with soap dripping onto his face.

"Yes," Harry nods, sombre. "We go to the beach to see him. And every time we do, I turn into this temporarily. It goes away after going back home, but every time I'm near the sea, I change," he reveals. The problem was that it was an explanation and his boyfriend still looked bewildered. "I'm sorry."

"This is confusing," Louis is frowning at him. Not in a disgusted way though.

Harry swallows, his throat dry. He knows that's the tell-tale sign of being close to crying. But, he can't let himself do that now; he's already enough of a joke. "It is. It was to me in the beginning, and even now. But, I can't help it. Stupid genes."

Louis sucks on the inside of his cheek, hard. "Gemma? Is she- does this happen to her as well?"

Harry shakes his head solemnly. "I'm the unlucky one."

Then, Louis surprises him by stepping forward to the edge of the tub, knees grazing it. He looks like he can't help himself- and for a second, Harry's so thankful that this man loved him. And that this love was enough to not abandon Harry in a random seaside human settlement and go running back home without even looking back. The fear bubbles down but stays like an underlying current. It's only proven right when Louis stares at Harry for a long while, before diffidently raising a hand and stroking his cheek. "You're the same," he whispers.

The relief that comes is stronger than when he got into the water. Stronger than the fear that weighed him down, even physically. He can feel something aflutter in him, growing into every corner like a plant of the light. Perhaps, in the end, the answer is to simply continue trusting each other- but this put them on a different tier as individuals. Harry nods his head, his lips turning upward. "I am. I'm just covered in scales. You have to believe me."

Louis stops chewing on the inside of his cheeks, only to frown. It doesn't spell out 'I hate you' or 'I'm going to leave you', though. "You should have told me. I feel tricked, Harry. This is a huge thing and we've been together for a while. I should have been told."

"I can't exactly tell anyone! You would have laughed in my face!"

"You should come up with something better than 'I'm scared of water'!" Louis sighs again, rubbing his face with the hand that isn't on Harry's shoulder. "Who else knows?"

"My family. Niall," discloses Harry. 

"Fucking Niall," mutters Louis.

It cracks a smile out of Harry. "I wish you had told me we'd come here. I would have found some way to tell you. I didn't have a choice but to show you like this," he waves at his tail swung lazily over the rim of the tub. "Are you alright?"

Louis's gaze was now on his tail. As much guesswork as there is being done, even if it can't be said if it's right or wrong, Harry can tell that Louis's loos aren't full of resentment or distaste. "We have to talk about this. At least after we get home," he says. His hands uncurl from their fists like he wants to reach out and touch.

"You can touch it," Harry says gingerly. "Might feel a bit weird, though."

Louis grimaces. "I don't know if I'm okay with this. It all feels like a lucid dream." He uncertainly moves his hand down, fingers trembling minutely. They make contact for a split second, jerking back impulsively; Harry can't even feel it. Then, with more confidence, Louis slides his palm over the width of his tail. "This isn't as slimy as I thought it would be. It's- smooth. Just smooth and nothing else."

Harry finds himself smiling.

Pulling his hand away, Louis examines it. He, then, holds it up for Harry to see. "Does this happen?" Some of the scales have rubbed off on to him, leaving a silvery residue. "Is this bad?"

"They're scales, that's what's supposed to happen."

Louis squeezes his eyes shut and swallows a yawn. "So, you're a mermaid," he concludes, to which Harry nods, frankly, a bit happier than he thought he would. "I'm dating a mermaid. Me boyfriend is a bloody mermaid." 

Just to irk him, Harry slaps his fins and splashes water on the latter's side. "Yes, I am. Part-time."

"Oii!" Louis yelps out with a laugh. The tension is sufficiently cut through when Louis splashes back at him with the back of his hand. "I'll need some time to process this, Hazza. What exactly are your duties if you have a mermaid for a boyfriend? Do I have to turn into one too? Is there a forum on the Internet I should join? Do you have a support group back home? Do all of you plan secret swimming pool trips? Do you have a fish best-mate? Do you wear a shell bra sometimes? Do you-"

Harry cuts across him with a peal of laughter, clutching at his stomach and flapping his tail. His chin digs into his chest, shoulders dancing with it. "That's not how it is! None of that is true!"

"Yeah?" By now, Louis is grinning back at him.

A few leftover hitches of his shoulders pass as snorts until Harry completely stops, smiling ever so slightly. "Your brain is a wonderland."

Louis makes an affronted noise, head darting back in faux-offence. "I thought me," he pauses to yawn the next word out. "Bo-ah-dy. Huh." He smacks his lips together. "I thought me body was?"

"You should get back to bed."

Louis nods to the bathtub. "You'll sleep here?"

Harry shrugs. "I can't get up and walk out of here, can I?"

At that, Louis scowls to himself, nose scrunching and mouth contorted. He jumps up, clapping his hands together. "Right. Drain the tub, will ya, Haz. We'll get you back to bed."

Sitting up with his arms supported by the lip of the tub, Harry stares at him in astonishment. "How?"

Louis has already reached behind Harry to pull the plug and the level of the water begins to roil down, steering down his chest, his midriff and eventually till he's sitting in a puddle that wants to be escaped from the weight of him. "Alright, love, I need you to put your arms around my neck," Louis says, bending over to make himself available. 

"This isn't a good idea, baby," Harry mutters, though he still goes to comply.

"Do you have a better idea?" Louis grunts out as he wraps his arms around Harry's torso, hoist him up quickly with a squeak that wasn't meant to leave his mouth. While Harry is leaning a hip against the inside of the tub, one of Louis's arms clutch lower and upheaves him further until he's standing up - except he's not. His tail is simply bent. "Sorry, does that hurt?"

Harry tightens his grip around his neck. "No, but I still don't think this will go well-" he's cut off from further complaining when Louis boosts him up completely till his pectorals are touching Louis's shoulders, so far up that he can place his chin on top of Louis's head- and Louis stumbles backwards to get the rest of him out of the tub, so his tail splats on the floor. If any part of the universe conspired against him, Harry had a full chance of falling and hitting his head on the bathroom floor. It wasn't like he didn't trust Louis to carry him- but they just were built differently. 

"Haz," garbles Louis. "I want you to put your tail around me."

"You want me to what?" Harry cheeps out, breathless from a bone digging into his lung, also from holding on for dear life. 

"Your tail- Just make sure it's off the ground, put it-" Louis wheezes out with gusto, even as out of breath as he was. "Put it around me bum so it doesn't make me trip."

Harry cranes his neck to look at the close side of his boyfriend's neck. What a bizarre idea, but he doesn't voice it. He demands his tail to move as he pleases, and strangely, the tail listens and snakes itself perfectly around Louis, almost in a death grip. "This okay?"

Louis's mouth opens to agree, but the 'yeah' never comes out. He staggers out of the bathroom; with a drunken stance, swaying side to side to hold Harry up while Harry is holding on to him with his nails digging into his back. Though it's hardly three steps, it gets them so long to take each step. Harry balances them by holding the doorframe of loo, until Louis gets his feet back on track and saunters a bit more till the destination; being very close to either of them falling to any injuries "Easy," he says under his breath, letting it puff out against Harry's shoulder, right before he makes it to the foot of the bed and drops Harry into it.

Harry lets out an 'oomph' and finally sighs in relief. His tail slaps down against the board and the fins flop onto the floor whimsically.

Dutifully, Louis tugs him up the bed, tucks him under the covers and joins him on the other side, and Harry is already falling into sleep, a part of his face pressed to a cool pillow, when he feels Louis's shuffling in press Harry's back to his chest.

🧜🧜🧜

When Harry was around five years old, he saw his dad for the last time- or that's what it felt like. All he could remember was that his father kissed him on the top of his head, told him to be a good boy with one hand ruffling Harry's hair and the other wrapped around the handle of a suitcase. And he walked right through the door, didn't even look back. 

He remembers Gemma bitterly refusing to do any chore after that. And him not being able to eat biscuits because they reminded him of sitting on Dad's knee when they had their tea. Mum was very quiet. She didn't speak about it or their father at all. It didn't make sense in the slightest. The whole family went out for dinner a week prior and Harry laughed till the water came out of his nose and his parents looked like his parents. He didn't know if they weren't happy or not- they just looked like they always did. And that didn't give him the tiniest of clues. 

Cory at school said when his parents had divorced, it was messy. There were shouting and broken plates and crying and no peace and lawyers involved. There was none of that at Harry's house though. It had been so silent, so unexpected, that when it crept upon him, he didn't know how to react. Only he didn't understand if they divorced? Or if his dad just went away without all those complications?

"He loves you, sweetheart," Mum assured him. It was a lie. A huge lie.

Then, when he was ten years old, Mum took both of them down to a beach in Brighton for the first time. It was a murky day and his Wellies spluced mud with every step he took. He was in a horrible mood to even enjoy the beach, but he went along because he didn't have a choice. Brighton was such a gloomy place. He distinctly remembered it was barely drizzling yet he had his raincoat on, and his sweaty hand was in his sister's. She was yammering on about a boy in school, and cor blimey, was it annoying.

As they walked off the dock, he had to stop himself in his steps. Or else he would've fallen. There was a rush of vertigo that passed as quickly as it came and there he was standing, not knowing whether to trust his eyes.

His dad was sitting in the sand with the tail of a fish, smiling at him. As if nothing had gone wrong, he beckoned the both of them over with a wave of his hand.

Crying out in disbelief, Harry had regained control over his wobbly legs and he sprinted. So hard his breath ran out in the few metres, and then his knees gave out. He hit the sand, wrapping his arms around his father's wet naked torso. Then, Dad ruffled his hair and laughed. It sounded the same as it did five years ago, he hugged the same too. It really was Dad. Except, Harry didn't know if he had gone back to being five years old, or if his dad was his dad at all.

Despite how old Harry and Gemma were, Dad still pulled them into his lap while their legs fell over his tail. As they shouted and shouted about how he had ended up as a fish, Dad began to explain how he wasn't human at all. And that he chose to become one for Mum. When they looked over to Mum, she was sitting beside them, smiling and nodding in agreement.

But, Harry wondered why Dad hadn't bothered to stay human. What had gone wrong?

They sat there all day long on the beach and Dad asked about the last five years and he laughed and laughed. They talked about how Gemma became a teenager and how Harry had come second in the spelling bee. Mum brought them ice cream instead of lunch and Dad let them touch his tail. But, the day wasn't enough. His dad began to look tired, but he pressed for details to make up for the lost time. Later, he sent Gemma and him away to play with the sand nearby while Mum and Dad held hands and talked. They never looked at each other- just always at the sea. Then, he promised to see them every year in the same place. It only made Harry sceptical.

Upon reaching home, Harry had realised scales growing over thighs the next day. They didn't grow to morph his legs and fell off in two days, but it was a discovery that led to letting them see Dad for more than a day. Mostly since Harry could swim off with him.

Mum was always so worried, never let them wander off into the sea. Her eyes trailed him wherever they went, and every year they went, it seemed like it pained her to let him go for an hour with his father. But, they never stopped. She always made sure they went. A yearly trip was a must through his secondary school, uni and even after he had moved away from home.

It wasn't enough though. His father wasn't around and it wasn't enough at all, and nothing could make up for it. 

🧜🧜🧜

Harry awakes much earlier than his boyfriend does like he usually does, and like his biological clock always tells him. But, since he has no legs, he can't get up. If he were to shuffle back and prop himself against the headboard, he would end up rumbling the entire bed. 

If anything, Louis deserved to sleep in, and he deserved the rest. He had planned the vacation and it had gone to the dogs when he was introduced to Harry's tail. To make things worse, he voluntarily helped in transporting Harry to the bed without any hesitance instead of leaving him in the bathtub. By now if Harry's heart wasn't flipping in his chest out of love, there would be something wrong with him, other than the fact that he was currently half fish.

He stares up at the ceiling, plays a brain game on his phone and steals glances to the man beside him for the one hour before Louis finally wakes up. He turns on his side, watching as Louis's hands curl into fists, body stretching up and then back into place. He sighs, smiling with closed eyes and then mirrors Harry's position just in time for Harry to tilt towards him. "Morning, love," he rasps out, scraping forward to swing an arm around Harry's back and pulling him into a kiss. 

In the distraction of it, Louis's hand slithers down his spine and comes to rest over the swell of his arse, and he stills. Louis falls back against the pillows, matching their gazes.

"I forgot for a second."

Harry giggles in reply. 

"I can't squeeze your bum through your tail," Louis says with a pout.

"How sad."

Louis kisses him one more time and then trails away to slide out of bed. He gets on his toes and stretches one more time, a nonsensical sound emanating out of him. "I'll get breakfast ready."

Wiggling in his place to face him, Harry frowns at him. "You don't need to, baby."

"I want to," he says immediately like he won't let anyone win the argument. Like he knew this conversation would come up. "This is going to be very advantageous, Hazza. You're always taking care of me. Maybe I want to do the same."

Louis walks out of the bedroom before he can see Harry's eyes melting back into his skull. Ten minutes later, he's bringing in two plates of steam rising out of it. He places a pillow over Harry's lap, then a dish of an omelette, cut up strawberries, and some almonds with it. Harry can't help but feel impressed, because Louis doesn't bloody cook without calling the fire brigade on them.

("I'm pretty fucking gay, Harold," Louis always snaps back when he always says it. "Of course, I can't fucking cook!")

They finish their food in silence, only pausing when Harry throws out compliments that Louis basks under. Right when Harry's beginning to think his boyfriend is being uncharacteristic, Louis says he'll wash the dishes later. Ah, there's his man.

Despite Louis's persistent word of wanting to help, Harry slides off the bed and onto the floor. He shuffles his way to the loo and props himself up on the chair Louis left for him. He sits down on the chair comfortably and gets through his morning routine of teeth, face and hair; omitting the idea of a shower.

Louis leaves Harry him be for some more time, claiming he has an idea. There's some tinkering around by the sound of it from somewhere in the house and a version of Louis's Eureka is heard and then loud footsteps thundering from the hallway to the door of the bedroom. "Look what I found," Louis exclaims. His eyes are so bright. He's holding up a rather large sledge.

"Oh, no," Harry mutters.

"Oh, yes," says Louis, grinning.

"What if people see me?!"

"It's a private beach, Haz. The cottage next to our is unoccupied and the other side is a fishermen beach. They've already made their rounds today and gone back." When Harry looks up at him in question, he shrugs abashedly. "I did some walking around last night when you slept."

The sledge is deposited outside the loo and he braces his arms around Harry, and with a huff, slumps him into the sledge. Though Harry is cowering in fear, Louis smiles triumphantly and grabs hold of the rope at the front of the sledge. And then, he pulls. He pulls the sledge out of the bedroom, with Harry in it. With Harry's tail hanging out of it. 

"You're going to ruin the floors," Harry warns. The words leave his mouth and then leave him behind as he's being carried away.

Louis says it's plastic and it doesn't matter. That doesn't lessen his fear for his life. 

The trip to the patio doors is fine, but lifting him out of the frame of it is a pain. And then came the concrete path that leads into the sand. The sound of it grated on Harry's eras, but he held onto the sides and onto his life. When they hit the sand, the abatement settled smoothly like it the sledge sunk into the ground. Louis was laughing and was pulling him swiftly towards the water. He stopped short before where the waves washed over wet sand. Then, he promptly rolls Harry off the sledge.

He doesn't stop there. Louis then rolls him over the shore to the edge of the water. "You should embrace the mermaid side of the family. Go on, then. Take a swim."

It shouldn't make Harry so happy at the sound of acceptance, but it does. He wriggles through the wet sand, clumps of it sticking to his damp skin. It wades away when he slides into the water. And he can almost feel his tail animate. It takes him a minute to begin breathing- it's different since he doesn't have to take full breaths anymore. It takes him a few more minutes than that to learn to control his tail, for it's been eight months since he last saw it. As if it's an entity on its own, his tail finally begins cooperating with him when he demands it to flap. With a splash, he plunges forward into the water, bobbing into the increasing depth.

For someone who can't call himself graceful at all, Harry is stuck between deciding if he's flying or dancing through the water. Streamlining made his body spin and whirl in the water. His hair is floating behind him, his arms are no longer heavy, his chest is just as light and his tail is shimmying. A school of tiny fish scamper away from him, right under his belly and he resists the urge to scoop them up. Maybe if he could try a bit more, he could go deeper to see some coral and more fish. Perhaps he could find a fancy shell to take back to Louis.

Remembering that he's still human, he turns around and swims back to the shore lazily; it takes him more time than he'd anticipated. Just as he can see the end of the land, he rises to the surface and he glides onto the sand to find his boyfriend a few feet away, laying on a haphazardly spread blanket, hands under his head, hair ruined by the wind and eyes covered by sunglasses. There's a book sitting beside him hopefully. 

At the splash, Louis sits up on his elbows. "There you are. Was just telling my wonderland of a brain to stop worrying about you going off to become a fish."

Harry laughs. "You'd think that being a fish is a better luxury than being a human being, huh." He crawls from the wet sand onto the dry sand. "I can't even if I tried. Think of it as an allergic reaction. I feel the sea and then, boom! I grow a tail."

"It's interesting." Louis meets him in the middle by inching towards him on his knees and settling down with his legs crossed. "I was worried last night that you might stay like this forever, but I reckon I'm trying to understand. I'm going to have a lot of questions, though. Lots of them. My mind's going to keep going there and I'll nark you about it for weeks."

Harry props his elbows up and rests his chin in his hands. "That's completely fair. Hey, how long was I gone?"

"Almost two hours."

"I... Hadn't noticed."

"This, my dear, is why I think you'll do better as a fish," muses Louis. He's reached out to comb Harry's tangled hair out his face and brush the sand off his shoulders. 

Harry snorts to that. "What will you do if that were to happen to me?"

"I'd put you in me bathtub and spend all me time with you," Louis says with a slight smile.

Creasing his eyebrows, Harry tries not to smile back at him like a dream. "Your bathtub is broken."

Louis shakes his head at him, signifying that he's given up on the grotesque conversation. "Are you hungry? We can have an early lunch, you can stock up on energy and go out for a swim again."

"I'm starting to think you planned this for yourself, and that you're casually getting rid of me," theorises Harry.

The blanket is unoccupied by the time the words come out and Louis is already making his way back to the cottage. "Yes, Harry. That's exactly why we're here," he rolls his eyes without any heat behind. "I'll be back very quickly. Stay right here. God knows how long you'll be gone if you do now."

Harry nods his head and turns on his back to feel the sun on his skin. Though he itches to go back into the water, he resists it. He rolls onto his back, tail flopping with a splat on the wet sand. The waves barely graze his fins when he shuffles down and lies down. 

As promised, Louis is back in a few minutes with two disposable plates and a large container. Harry can hear him before he can see him, so he sits up on his elbows and flips back onto his stomach and props himself upright. When Louis comes closer, he straightens out the blanket with his toes, before placing one of the plates before Harry. He reaches into his back pocket and hands Harry a small towel and a hand sanitiser. He settles down across Harry as he's done cleaning his hands. 

The two sandwiches on his plate have peanut butter and banana in them and the container seems to be an abundance of popcorn, and the sight of them makes Harry's stomach let out a reverberating growl- loud enough for it to rumble against the ground. He wolfs down one of them in bare minutes.

"Slow down," Louis laughs. He reaches out to tuck a ringlet of hair behind Harry's ear. "I understand you're eager to get back into the water, but you'll wait for a half-hour, okay?"

Harry stops in his actions and sets down the other sandwich. They've been running this the whole day- centring everything around the fact that Harry temporarily lost his legs. "I'm sorry I've made this about me."

"What do you mean?"

"This holiday. We were supposed to have a good time and relax and fuck and just let go, right? You're just stuck taking care of me, instead," he laments.

Louis purses his lips. Setting his plate down, he shuffles closer like he wants to speak into Harry- like he's trying to drive the words through his thick skull. "I'm still having fun, babe. I'm unwinding. I'm eating convenient food that's not too healthy, sleeping under the sun and I am relaxing. You're doing it too. Just a bit differently than it was planned. I promise I'm fine."

Harry doubts it, but he doesn't want to say it out loud and let it spark another conversation so that he has to make Louis reassure him all over again. He wants to say something about making it up to him, but he doesn't want to introduce the idea of a misconceived barter system- but he knows he'll follow through with it and pamper Louis when they get back home. "Okay," he says instead. 

Thankfully, Louis changes the subject to a fiasco that happened at the hospital regarding a shipment of syringes that might last five years longer than it's supposed, and how unlucky that he was supervising duty while the unloading happened and got his fellow administrator in unnecessary trouble along with him. In turn, Harry tells him how he nearly busted his forehead on his desk in front of a client who came in to apply for a loan but was going back with an embarrassingly funny anecdote about an employee. At the story, Louis laughs so hard he has to fall back into the sand and learn how to breathe all over again, tears roll down his temples. 

It's nice, is what it is. It's a shame that Harry's dramatic DNA decided to spout a tail, but it's nice nonetheless. More so when half the popcorn ends up in the sand with them playing basketball with it by aiming it into each others' mouths. 

"How does it feel when you swim?" It isn't a surprising question, but when Louis asks him, it definitely does stump Harry. Maybe he thought wrong when he supposed that they weren't going to talk it.

Funnily, Harry has an answer ready. Mostly because it's easiest to describe. "It feels like settling into a hot bath after a long day. Or standing up after sitting too long."

Louis snorts. "Standing, eh?"

Harry smiles briefly. "Really. It's very soothing. It's why my mum makes us go to see our dad every year. Apart from seeing him, she knows I need to- you know, relax that part of me. Even if it's for a little time."

"And your dad?"

It's an open-ended question- something that says Louis is telling him to either answer it or not. If he wanted to, he could say how much he wanted to and not be bothered with the rest. It's such a Louis thing.

"He... He said something about the sea calling to him. He resisted for a while until it got unbearable and he had to return." And leave us behind, he doesn't add, but it's given. "It's why Mum doesn't let me go too far or too long in the water."

Louis is quiet, face pensive. He bites his cheek for a long moment before he replies. "Should I worry the same?"

Honestly, Harry doesn't have a response to that, but he tries to be as truthful as he can. "It's never called to me. I don't think it ever will. I'm more human than I am- this. I couldn't live in the water if I tried to." He pastes on a grin. "You know how obsessed I am with my phone, why would I want to live in the water if I couldn't get to keep my phone?"

Louis laughs and the situation diffuses.

When it's deemed time to swim, Louis leaves their paraphernalia and his shirt at the patio and jogs back to walk into the water while Harry wiggles back in, grunting in strain. It's expected when Louis laughs at him and runs faster into the point where the water is above his navel.

A second later, Harry joins him, tail automatically flexing in the water.

"Show off," Louis mutters. 

"Jealous," Harry shoots back. This is his medium; his niche. He pushes himself through the water and glides metres away, effortlessly. He knows he's far into the deep end when he turns around to find Louis struggling to bob up to him. 

Louis's expression is pained and his shoulders are stiff. "Do you think your mermaid powers could sense if there was a shark nearby?"

It's adorable how this is, but Harry refrains from saying it so that he doesn't end up with Louis dunking his head in the water. "There aren't any sharks here. It's too close to the shore," he stretches his arms out and winds them around Louis, pulling him in till they're wading together. "Besides, if there were any, I'd protect you."

Louis scoffs, but throws his arms around the latter's neck and closes into him. "You can't even walk on two feet without tripping once or twice a day, how should I trust your tail to do the job?"

"Shh," hisses Harry.

"You're very warm," muses Louis, wet hands roaming over his shoulders and going up to the nape of his neck. "That doesn't make sense. Fish are cold-blooded animals."

"Shh!" Harry swallows his laugh, tugging Louis closer to him. He reckons he might not here the end of fish jokes. Before Louis can launch out another insult, he sags inward and kisses him. Though initially protesting, Louis gives in easily, sagging against him, lips pliant to Harry's indulgence. He bites down on Louis's lower lip and tugs until Louis lets out a raw, keening sound and hands himself over to Harry to whatever pleases him. It's one of those days, then. The ones that rarely come when Louis gives up control, choosing to be on the loosening end where Harry usually is. 

The inside of his lips are smooth, warm and slick, salty from the water, and Harry feels him out for the millionth time like it's new to him. Then, his tongue is a revelation- a reward. Louis's nails are digging into his shoulders just right, legs twining around Harry's hips to cant up to. He's already hard, the tosser is; when he senses it, something like a match strikes along the length of Harry's spine. 

He lets Louis hang on him like a buoy and it looks like he trusts Harry to keep him afloat. Keeping it in mind, Harry lets his arms wander down his back and slide down to squeeze his arse. Louis breaks away with a groan, rutting up against him. "How are we gonna do this? Should we- Do we go back? Let's go back, Hazza."

What a disappointment this will be.

Harry bites down on his lip, to control his grimace. "I really want to, Lou. But..."

Louis searches his face, frowning already. "But what?"

"Mermaids don't exactly..."

"Oh," Putting some distance between them, Louis glances down through the water where Harry's scales had begun; it's a smooth plane. "That's. Well. It's not your fault," he says quietly. It's obvious that he's a tiny bit crestfallen. "How do they reproduce, then?"

"I dunno. I think like, external fertilisation."

Louis wrinkles his nose, then dropping his face to look down at himself. "I should go take care of this myself," gesturing vaguely.

"No!" Harry fastens his arms around him before he can get any farther away. "I'm not wasting this opportunity and neither should you."

Louis's eyebrows do the talking when they pinch in confusion. 

Harry kisses him again, then moving to nibble at the skin under his ear, then lower somewhere along the span of his neck. "You're so hot like this, you think I'll pass up on it?"

Words fall out of Louis's mouth breathlessly as he throws his head back. "P-Pass up on what?"

Coming back up, Harry holds his gaze solidly. "Trust me on this," he professes, gripping Louis's hips to hold him up and plunges underwater. Thank god for the set of gills. He swims backwards and down until he's facing Louis's crotch. When he looks up through the ripples, he sees Louis's jaw hanging open. Just the reaction he had expected. 

Louis's fingers run through his hair, and pull him near, and he complies, nosing along the part where his thigh meets his groin. Slowly, he pulls down the trunks and he can see Louis's lips shaping the words. "Holy fuck," he starts to say, but it turns into a moan when Harry puts his mouth on him. 

("Fuckin' 'ell," Louis breathes out when he pops back up, and kisses him till he bruises, fingers digging into his shoulders. "You're a fantasy, babe. Who else can say they've gotten an incredible blowjob from a fuckin' mermaid, eh?" He pauses, breathing some more and kissing Harry again and again, gasping. "We need to do that again before we leave, you minx. God, you're so bloody sexy, I don't know what to do with meself.")

🧜🧜🧜

The rest of the day flows by like a castle in the air. They're in an indie film where there's no one but them and they make what they can of it through the lens of their eyes. When they come back from swimming, Louis goes back into the house to bring out a pair of foldable chairs and a tiny stool with beach toys and electronics balanced on it. They make sandcastles in the wet sand and cry when a particular wave mockingly erases their efforts. At least Louis got photos of it.

That leads to a conceited selfie session that takes up quite some time and quite some space on his phone. He takes pictures of Harry where the sun is making his tail glisten and locks them in a storage drive where no one else can see. Then, he buries Harry under the sand and ironically heaps sand on his tail like an actual tail shaped out of the sand. His camera roll has a few in flat view where Harry's smiling cheesily up at him, the back of his head cupped in the palms of his hands. 

Somewhere in the middle is a pathetic competition of skipping stones. Except, both of them are sore losers and they argue over who won and it's going nowhere since no one's ready to admit defeat. Well. That is until Harry pushes Louis in the side and it makes him fall back, only encouraging Harry to pelt him with wet sand.

The only thing that was stopping them from being one of those cliche couples is the fact that they hadn't set up a campfire, cuddled in front of it with a guitar in someone's lap. Or god forbid, sending out a bloody message in a bottle.

Whilst there is a good mix of '70s music playing in the background like it's a soundtrack to the late afternoon-evening, they're sitting in the chairs; Harry is watching a documentary called _Queercore_ on his laptop, halfway through which he turns to show Louis a particularly tear-inducing scene of it, only to find him asleep in his chair. His head his thrown back, loud snores buzzing dissolutely out his open mouth that's already let out a bit of drool. Harry closes his laptop, setting it down before he picks up Louis's phone and takes a snap. He sends it to himself and deletes it from Louis's storage while giggling to himself. With a last look to Louis, he sighs, laying back and eventually falling into a nap too.

Louis wakes him much later when the evening was an hour from bleeding into the night. With all the sleep they're catching up, he hopes they'll be glowing from it. Louis returns to the cottage and fetches a pack of Jaffa cakes he'd found wedged in one of the grocery bags, and a cheese block that's been cut into tiny cubes. That, and of course, tea. They munch while playing games of Rummy even though Harry is horrible at matching sets, and he pretends he's letting Louis win. 

Between the third game where Harry is concentrating on incorporating a joker card he received by fluke, Louis stops him and points at the horizon that's infinitely away at the sea. It makes his breath catch and the cards fall from his grip, onto the sand. He certainly hadn't caught sight of it earlier when it began to go dark, perhaps he should have. 

If it was given any credit, it would have to be enlisted in the top three sunsets that Harry's seen in all. The overhead sky was bordering on a dark blue that seemed dubious to verge into a black. The sun had just begun to sink into the sea, not as blood-orange as he'd hoped, but it was emitting a burst of white light that looked like it could vanquish if looked at it directly; lighting up the water in a colour that couldn't be named. The white rays spread in all direction, giving attention to the blotches of pink that mixed with orange and speckles of violet. They gave way to an array of nugget-like clouds that were only floating towards it. And Harry. Harry was just a nobody before it all. He palms around on the sand until he reaches Louis's hand, grasps it, and holds his breath.

🧜🧜🧜

While Louis was out to buy groceries for tea time and the next day's breakfast, Harry had settled into the middle of the bed in the musty old bedroom and finished the rest of his documentary. Honestly, he needed a distraction from the never-ending hunger that he'd felt the entire weekend. Vacation probably meant unleashing your appetite. They were out of food already, spare for the sweets they had. But, that was for later. So, he decidedly video-calls his sister. 

"Hey, moron," she greets him as soon as she picks up. Blatantly, she's sitting on her sofa, holding up the phone to her face. Even though the screen is grainy, he can tell she looks tired as hell.

"Hey, shit-face," he says back. "You do look it."

Gemma's confused face is just like a pug's; where her entire visage participates in wrinkling into a ball. "Look like what?"

"Like shit," he admits. 

She rolls her eyes at typically. "Haha. Had a late night yesterday and I've been so hungover," she gripes over-dramatically. "Nothing's working." She finishes off with a yawn so wide he can see her uvula.-

"You're getting older, Gems, maybe consider being a bit more responsible."

"Fuck off," she grumbles with a scowl. Harry feels so close to telling her she resembles a pug, but that's a secret he can't tell her for the reason that he may never get to talk to her again. "Your attitude is not welcome right now."

Harry mimics her in a high pitch voice until he catches her eyes and both of them burst into a laugh.

The unmistakable sound of a car rumbling from the front of the house is heard. He looks up at it and then back Gemma. "Louis must be back."

Gemma narrows her eyes, head darting closer to the screen. "Yeah, I could tell by your idiotic face. Where are you? That's not your flat. Or Louis's."

Harry smiles just as she begins to ask. "Louis surprised me with a getaway," he mumbles, cheeks colouring.

As usual, she pretends to retch. "You couples are disgusting." She doesn't mean it though. Though she's always been sceptical about his relationships, she never stopped lending a hand or a shoulder. And she'd liked Louis, even if she didn't let on.

He's about to retaliate with a phrase about how single Gemma is, but Louis pops into the doorway. "Alright, love?"

Turning away, Harry smiles at him. "I'm talking to Gemma." He doesn't follow it up with asking Louis to come and say 'Hi'. No one needs that kind of pressure. 

Just when he starting to think Louis will wave off the offer with a shake of his head and walk away, he nods to himself and steps in faux-confidence. He saunters to Harry's side and sits beside him on the edge of the bed, peering at the screen. "Hey, Gemma," he says meekly.

"Louis," she acknowledges, albeit haughtily. 

"Gemma," apprises Harry.

She bares her teeth in a grimace. "Right, sorry," she turns back to Louis. "Harry tells me you took him for a holiday?"

Louis finally relaxes, as if he'd come into territory more comfortable; a middle ground called Harry. "Yes, it was a surprise." He turns to look at Harry. "This one had a surprise for me too."

Harry pouts at her. "He brought me to the beach."

Gemma looks back at him in horror.

Louis takes that as he cue to jump up. "Dinner will be ready in ten. I'll come to get you," he passes over his shoulder with a wink and struts out of the room, leaving Harry glaring at him.

"What's he saying?" she demands immediately. 

Harry sighs, rubbing at his forehead. "He didn't know, and then I had to show him and he lost his marbles for a bit but, he's been so nice about it. You should see him, Gems. He's carrying me places and cooking for me." He smiles wanly. "I thought he would leave if he found out."

At that, she considerably softens, her eyes gleaming despite the lines by them. "That's how you know he's a keeper."

They come out of their stupor after that, talking about what they were going to do the next day, how work was, if they'd called Mum recently. About how Uncle Rudy was issued with another DUI after a fishing trip with his son-in-law. Gemma's cat, Bingo, interrupts them in the middle by settling on her shoulder- and that causes some molly-coddling from Harry's side. The conversation flows; one thing overlapping the other as time passed.

"Are you ready to be taken to dinner?" Louis hangs at the doorway, leaning into the room in question. He looks cleaned up; trimmed beard and was a little less sweaty. He had changed out of his tank top into the The Blue One , the one he used to impress people.

Harry gives him a once-over, before turning back to his sister. "I'll call you later?" He shuts the laptop before she can say anything snarky in reply. He fleets his gaze back to his boyfriend. "You're looking sharp," he muses.

Louis grins, smoothing down some nonexistent wrinkles on his shirt. "Thanks. Are you ready?"

"Yep." He lifts his tail and places it on the sledge by the side of the bed and Louis comes forward to help the rest of him onto it. "I don't feel great being dragged like this all the time."

The sledge begins to move once he's comfortable with sitting up on his elbows. "Aww, love, see the fun in it. You don't get to do things like once you become an adult. If we had a chair with wheels on it, maybe it would've been easier."

A wheelie chair. Sounds fun. 

Louis leads him to the patio instead of straight to the dining table. Through the screen doors, Harry catches sight of the table outside. There's an old tablecloth spread out on it, smoothened as well. In the centre in a chipped vase with a bouquet of yellow roses placed into it. And bloody candles on either side of it; providing the only light around them in the night and smelling sweet of fruit. On either end were two plates and sets of knives and forks. Everything paired well with the darkness of the night, the stars that peppered the sky and the shadows of the clouds that were interspersed with them.

"You okay, Haz?"

Harry glances up at him, finding that Louis is looking back at him, unsure. It's all a bit stumping. "You did this?"

Louis shrugs sheepishly. "I wanted to take you out to dinner at this nice place, but since you can't come... I arranged this."

"I thought we were going to have bread again," Harry exclaims, unable to contain his incredulity. "You could have warned me, Lou. You've already done enough by bringing me here, you didn't have to-"

Cutting across, Louis yanks him threw the patio door and stops beside the table. "I wanted to, I really did. I was browsing about this famous restaurant this back in Swindon and I thought we could go, but nothing's lost. We could do this here. In fact, it's better like this. We don't have anyone to disturb us."

Against Louis's wish to help, Harry steadies himself on the seat of the chair this his elbows and pulls himself up to sit on it. From inside, Louis arrives with a large platter of fried items. He sets it to the side so Harry can reach. "Tempura prawns," he points to one of them, "Calamari," he points to the crispy rings, and then to some discs with holes them, "Lotus Root Crisps. They look dodgy but I was told they're great. I didn't want to get us fish because it felt weird." He takes a seat. 

Looking at the food and Louis and roses and the candles and how everything around him was scintillating and all else can go to waste before this evening right then. "Louis, I can't think right now, much less eat," he says gravely. "You've done so much this weekend, I'm going to pay you back-"

"Don't insult me, Harry," he shoots back with a winning smile. "I received a bonus last month that I wanted to spend on my boyfriend, who I love very much. You're sort of ruining it."

Harry can feel his heart melting into nothing and his stomach flutter in response. "I love you, too," he whispers because Louis's words are perfect and he can't possibly throw them at the wind. 

They stay for a moment like that; drinking each other in under the moonlight where only the crickets sang with their hearts and the waves synchronised with the blood thrumming in their arteries. The candles were probably an illusion of how handsome Louis was, but Harry didn't want to believe it. Not the candles, not the moon, not a stupid blue shirt could tell him just exactly how beautiful Louis truly was. 

"Shall we tuck in?"

Harry shakes himself out of the dream and plucks up one of the prawns. 

They eat in companionable silence, getting mayo all over their faces, ridiculously holding hands over the tabletop. Then, Louis is gone for a bit, leaving Harry to dream all over again; wondering if they'll look back at this in fondness again. If they can come back here after years and feel the same, if not more. If they might have one of their own to bring along; or two or three. If they could still enjoy themselves while shouting the faceless kids into not going too deep into the water. His mind runs with the idea. It goes light-years away.

But, Louis is back with a cooler of beers and goes inside again to retrieve two plates of entree. Harry's looks like a braised lamb; it's something that Louis knew he liked, and Louis has gotten himself something with chicken. They eat off each other's plates. Louis takes his mash and Harry takes his salad and it's like nothing could be better than this.

By the time Harry had finished his plate, he was four beers down and was feeling slightly tipsy. There was a pleasant buzz in his bones and a slight airiness his head that made the rest of him heavy. For a moment, he sits back and watches Louis lick sauce off the prongs of his fork. Slowly, he smacks his lips and refocuses back to Louis's eyes. "So, are we having dessert?"

Setting his fork down, Louis wets his lips and simpers. "Yeah."

"Another surprise?"

"No," Louis's eyes are lit with mischief. "I might've gotten us some chocolate covered strawberries."

Harry lets his jaw drop. "Strawberries?" He asks once again after he gets a hum from the latter. "Chocolate covered?"

"That's right."

His mouth is suddenly dry and he drains the rest of his beer in a go, planting it back on the table, letting it thud harder than it's supposed to. Harry doesn't have the strength or

the will power to sit through eating chocolate-covered strawberries while Louis was across him and not beside him. "I'm feeling a bit tired," he ruminates. "D'you want to take it to our room?"

The atmosphere is sizzling with something and it snaps when Louis beams, wider than before, the candlelight reflecting in his pupils. "I think that's a wonderful idea." He licks his lips again, god. "I reckon I feel strong enough to carry you back."

"Yeah?" Harry breathes out.

Louis gives him a minute nod, already bracing his hands on the edge of the table. "Let's go," he stands up abruptly, nearly knocking down his empty plate.

🧜🧜🧜

When they're up in the morning, Harry knows that the fantasy is over faster than he would like it to. They could lay in bed for longer, pretend they don't have a life to get back to the next day. But, it's past nine on the clock, and Louis yawns his last yawn, greets him to a good morning and slides out, complaining briefly about the sand in the bedding. 

After Harry chides him for a while, Louis drags out a chair into the kitchen and lets Harry sit on it by the stove. It shows how relieved Louis is to not cook again- instead, he's enthusiastic in bringing out ingredients and presenting utensils to Harry. They have apple-cinnamon pancakes with golden syrup, from a pre-made batter that Louis bought yesterday and a serving of bangers that were in the freezer. 

Once adequately filled to the brim with tea, Louis draws them a bath with a few salts he'd secretly brought from a gourmet shop in Swindon and they sit on each end even if it's crammed with how long Harry's tail is. There's more soap-flicking and laughing than actual cleaning that gets done. Harry wonders if he's spoiled now and if he should blame it on Louis. Everything Louis has done for him has given him a ladder to the stairs, maybe he won't be able to back to mundanity.

But, it comes to end after they dry up and put on shirts and Louis says they have to drive back home. The relaxation Harry's feeling in his bones is already evaporating away.   
Louis, as dutiful as he can be, helps him to the front seat, draping a blanket over his tail just in case. He reclines Harry's seat the way he likes it and kisses him sweetly right after. 

He also kisses that stupid sledge goodbye. Hmph.

"I don't want to go back home," Harry whines. 

Just then, Louis is plopping into his seat, locking the seatbelt around him, and gesturing for Harry to do the same. "I don't either, love. Wish we could have fun every day if we could."

"Life sucks," Harry sighs. 

Louis is busy concentrating on his rearview mirror and pulling the car out of its parking, but he manages to huff out a laugh in time. "It does."

"I have something to tell you."

The car is vibrating in it's place and Louis makes no move to push it to drive. "Is there any other mythical creature in your family that I should know about?" He's looking at Harry with comically widened eyes, hands gripping the steering wheel in a defensive mode. 

A giggle falls out of Harry's mouth. "I did hear that my mum's third cousin is a troll," he concedes. 

Louis narrows his eyes at him, unimpressed. "Really? I couldn't tell 'cause of your boyish good looks."

"No, I'm serious," says Harry around a smile. "There's something important I've been wanting to ask you for a while." He pauses to watch the shift in the latter's features.

Perhaps it wasn't a good idea at all; but if he waits any longer, it'll come out in other worse situations. "It's your choice. You can always say no and we can always wait for a bit longer."

Louis sits up straighter, his expression incredulous. "Harry Mermaid Styles," he declares with a lilt in his tone. "Are you proposing to me?"

"No!" Harry jumps to say. "Not yet," he adds. Essentially since he can't say he hadn't given it a thought, or hasn't seen Louis under that light at all. "But, I'm counting on you for that. I'm not the type to ask. I'd like to be asked."

He sees that Louis's eyes have softened, training on his face with intensity. But, he doesn't say anything to support or contradict his word-vomit. 

"I want us to move in together," he reveals. "I dunno what your stance is on this, but I've been waiting months to ask you and haven't been able to because I'm a milksop."

Louis opens his mouth to say something, but Harry beats him to it. "I know I got a little sappy yesterday because you were being sweet, and I promise this doesn't have anything to do with that. It's just given me perspective, you know? That maybe you're into this," he pints between the both of them. "Just as much as I am. Not that I didn't believe it before. It's a confirmation, though. I also know we need a little bit more time to settle in with our jobs, but it would be lovely if we could fit this tiny thing in since half your stuff is at mine and half of mine is at yours. It's perfect, Lou. Why don't we just do it?"

Shaking his head, Louis laughs, not jestingly though. "I know, Hazza. You once mentioned it to me while sleep talking."

At once, Harry feels pea-brained. "Why didn't you mention it?

"I didn't want to push you to tell me. I was going to wait because," his eyes soften in the pause that he takes and an involuntary smile creeps up his face. "This is a sure thing. I thought I was giving you some time and space, Haz, but if you want this, we could move in right away as soon as we get home." There are things to be talked about; who's furniture, how much of it, the lease, responsibilities. But, that's for later. When they're far from this paradise, where they don't want to associate life's problems with. 

Harry grins. Cannonballs began to go off in his chest, the feeling of it splattering his insides pleasantly. "Maybe after I get my legs back."

Louis pats the place where his knee should be. "When will that be?"

"By tomorrow or the day after. I might have to take sick leave. I can't very well drag myself to work like this."

The hand on Harry's knee pats him again. "We'll figure it out, love." And then, Louis fiddles with the gearstick and eases the car into driving away, the gravel turning into a tar road. 

Of course, they'll figure it out. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is appreciated! x


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